


Heard and Felt

by out_there



Category: West Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-02
Updated: 2005-03-02
Packaged: 2017-10-07 15:52:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_there/pseuds/out_there
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A speech had to be more than words and ideas. It had to be more than great phrasing and the correct use of punctuation. It had to feel right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heard and Felt

**Author's Note:**

> Set during S4. Thanks to [](http://simplelyric.livejournal.com/profile)[**simplelyric**](http://simplelyric.livejournal.com/) for betaing and spotting my rather odd comma usage.

Sam tapped his pen on the desk as he read over the speech draft. Cheap and plastic, the pen made a sharp, high noise as it hit the wood. That sound was even starting to annoy Sam.

He dropped the pen to the desk and opened up an email instead, replacing one tapping with another.

_Hey, Will._

_Are you sure this is the approach you should be taking here? The environmental lobby can be... unforgiving._

_Trust me on that._

_Sam._

He deliberated about sending it, wondered if it would be too rude, too arrogant. If it would sound pompous and all-knowing. In the end, Sam decided to send it anyway.

***

The reply came an hour later, when Sam was halfway through depressing polling numbers and seriously wondering if 11am was too early to start drinking. Short and sharp, the email was a lot like Will: polite but firm.

_Sam,_

_I don't get to choose policy. I just write the speeches about it._

_I can't see another way of phrasing this._

_Will._

Sam opened up the attached word file. He really didn't have time to do this. He had figures and possible constituents and policies of his own to think about. On the other hand, it was a way to help out a friend.

***

Looking over the file an hour later, Sam realized that sometime over the past three years, he'd become Toby. The speech wasn't edited so much as torn apart; in some places, possibly torn apart by wild wolves, then reworked and sewn back together.

It was the Frankenstein of speeches. A lurching monster slowly dragging itself away from the mob.

_Um, Will?_

_The file's attached._

_...It's possible that I got just a little carried away with editing._

_Sam._

Sam grimaced and added a quick post-script.

_P.S. - Please keep in mind, they are just suggestions. It's probably best to check with Toby._

***

The reply came back quicker than Sam expected. To be honest, he'd expected a slightly chilly response, a polite version of 'take your narrow-minded nitpicking and go to hell.' The kind of thing he'd been tempted to tell Toby on more than one occasion.

Luckily, Will didn't seem too offended.

_Thanks for the suggestions, Sam._

_I'm not quite so thankful about my slowly built theme being dissected into itty-bitty pieces, but you did have some valid points._

_Oh, and Toby says, you should remember to use punctuation._

_Will._

Sighing, Sam turned back to the polling figures.

***

Sam's lunchtime meeting was supposed to give him a clearer idea of his deceased predecessor's campaign promises. It turned out to be more schmoozing than anything else. It was all smiling, shaking hands and repeatedly telling everyone how he grew up just around the corner.

It was the type of meeting that managed to be boring, uninformative and tiring. And the emails sitting on his screen would probably be more of the same.

He flicked through one boring meeting reminder, one uninformative mention of new legislation, and one new set of poll figures that certainly promised to be tiring. At least there was a message from Will, too.

_Hey, Sam,_

_It occurred to me that my last email may not have been... particularly gracious. However, you can't expect me to be able to control the weather, put up with wildlife in my office, and have an even-temper._

_I thought about your suggestions and decided that they weren't completely insane. Would you have time to look over the attached draft and give me your opinion?_

_Thanks,  
Will._

Sam grinned widely and opened up the document.

***

Interestingly enough, Will had actually taken some of his suggestions. A lot of them, in fact. There were a few phrases that screamed Toby, but overall, it felt right.

That was something Sam had always had trouble explaining, that a speech had to be more than words and ideas. It had to be more than great phrasing and the correct use of punctuation. It had to feel right.

_Will,_

_It's really good. I'd consider looking at the third and seventh paragraph in a little more detail, but overall, it has the right feel._

_Sam._

***

Sam was compulsively checking his computer clock, certain that it was faulty somehow. He was sure that the afternoon couldn't be passing this slowly.

Then, Will's reply popped up on his screen.

_Sam,_

_Toby said the same thing about those paragraphs. We're both working on them now._

_I just had one question. The right feel? What precisely is the right feel? Or, what makes it feel right? (Okay, I actually had three questions.)_

_Will._

Clutching at any excuse to avoid the things he had to do, Sam started typing.

***

Sam looked over the email one last time before hitting send. He just had to make sure that it would make sense to someone that wasn't... well, him.

_Will,_

_The right feel is... what you need in any good speech. It's the extra appeal; it's the way the words sound together, the way the ideas fit together. It's the part that makes people stand up and applaud, that makes people stop and think about the truth in your words. It's the part that speaks to each heart in the audience, it's the part that stimulates each mind._

_When it feels right, you know. You know it's good, you know it's true. You know it's real. You know because you read the words on the page, and you can hear the President say each one, you can hear the gasps and acclaim of the crowd._

_It's not something you can explain logically or rationally. It's not a certain number of syllables or the length of each sentence. It's not the words used or the pattern of the argument. It's all of those things, and it's more than that._

_It's just... right._

_Sam._

***

Will's reply, when it came, was only a few lines. Sam read it, started beaming, and then read it again.

_Huh. When I read it, I just heard you._

_Will._


End file.
